a wicker laundry basket. "You can take whatever you want."
Now there was a loaded statement if he ever heard one. The only problem was that what he wanted most was definitely not in that basket.
So Zarek thanked her, then dug out a black sweater and gray turtleneck that shouldn't be too small for him. "I'll go change in my room," he said, wondering why he bothered. She didn't care if he left the room or not. It wasn't as if she could see him or anything.
At home he walked about half-naked most of the time.
But that wasn't civilized, was it?
Since when are you civilized?
Tonight, it appeared.
Sasha barked at him as he left the room, then the wolf ran into the room to bark at Astrid.
"Hush, Sasha," she said. "Or I'll make you go sleep in the garage."
Ignoring them, Zarek made his way to his room to put on the fresh clothes.
He shut the door and set the clothes aside as he stood there feeling very peculiar. It was just clothes she offered him. And shelter.
A bed.
Food.
He looked around the elegant, expensively furnished room. He felt lost here. Unsure of himself. Never in his life had he experienced anything like this.
He felt human in this place.
Most of all, he felt welcome. Something he didn't even feel around
Sharon.
Like all the others he had known over the centuries,
Sharon did what he paid her to do. Nothing more, nothing less. He always felt as if he were intruding any time he came near her.
Sharon was formal and cool, especially after he had ignored the pass she made at him. He always sensed there was a part of her that was scared of him. A part of her that would watch him, especially whenever her daughter was around—as if she expected him to go wild on them or something.
It had always insulted him, but then, he was so used to insults that he had shrugged it off.
But he didn't feel that with Astrid.
She treated him as if he were normal. Made it easy for him to forget the fact that he wasn't.
Zarek dressed quickly and went back to the den where Astrid sat sideways on the couch reading a book in braille. Sasha was resting on the couch at her feet. The wolf lifted its head and stared at him with what appeared to be hatred in its wolfish gray eyes.
Zarek, who had retrieved the paring knife from the kitchen, grabbed another piece of wood.
"So how did you end up with a wolf as a pet?" he asked, sitting in the chair nearest the fire so that he could toss the wood shavings into the hearth.
He didn't know why he talked to her. Normally, he wouldn't have bothered, and yet he found himself strangely curious about her life.
Astrid reached down to pet the wolf at her feet. "I'm not really sure. Much like you, I found him lying hurt and I brought him in and nursed him back to health. He's been with me ever since."
"I'm surprised he let you tame him."
She smiled at that. "I am, too. It wasn't easy to get him to trust me."
Zarek thought about that for a minute. " 'You must be very patient. First you will sit down at a little distance from me—like that—in the grass.' "
Astrid's mouth opened in shock as Zarek continued quoting one of her favorite passages. She couldn't have been more stunned had he thrown something at her. "You know
The Little Prince?"
"I've read it a time or two."
More than that for him to be able to quote it so unerringly. Astrid leaned up again to touch Sasha so that she could look at Zarek.
He sat catty-corner from her while he whittled. The firelight played in his midnight eyes. The black sweater hugged his body, and though black whiskers covered his face, she was again struck by how handsome he was.
There was something almost relaxed about him as he worked. A poetic grace that warred with the hard cynical twist of his mouth. The deadly aura that enveloped him tighter than his black jeans.
"I love that book," she said quietly. "It's always been one of my favorites."
He didn't speak. He just sat there with his piece of wood held carefully in his hand as his long, tapered
Now there was a loaded statement if he ever heard one. The only problem was that what he wanted most was definitely not in that basket.
So Zarek thanked her, then dug out a black sweater and gray turtleneck that shouldn't be too small for him. "I'll go change in my room," he said, wondering why he bothered. She didn't care if he left the room or not. It wasn't as if she could see him or anything.
At home he walked about half-naked most of the time.
But that wasn't civilized, was it?
Since when are you civilized?
Tonight, it appeared.
Sasha barked at him as he left the room, then the wolf ran into the room to bark at Astrid.
"Hush, Sasha," she said. "Or I'll make you go sleep in the garage."
Ignoring them, Zarek made his way to his room to put on the fresh clothes.
He shut the door and set the clothes aside as he stood there feeling very peculiar. It was just clothes she offered him. And shelter.
A bed.
Food.
He looked around the elegant, expensively furnished room. He felt lost here. Unsure of himself. Never in his life had he experienced anything like this.
He felt human in this place.
Most of all, he felt welcome. Something he didn't even feel around
Sharon.
Like all the others he had known over the centuries,
Sharon did what he paid her to do. Nothing more, nothing less. He always felt as if he were intruding any time he came near her.
Sharon was formal and cool, especially after he had ignored the pass she made at him. He always sensed there was a part of her that was scared of him. A part of her that would watch him, especially whenever her daughter was around—as if she expected him to go wild on them or something.
It had always insulted him, but then, he was so used to insults that he had shrugged it off.
But he didn't feel that with Astrid.
She treated him as if he were normal. Made it easy for him to forget the fact that he wasn't.
Zarek dressed quickly and went back to the den where Astrid sat sideways on the couch reading a book in braille. Sasha was resting on the couch at her feet. The wolf lifted its head and stared at him with what appeared to be hatred in its wolfish gray eyes.
Zarek, who had retrieved the paring knife from the kitchen, grabbed another piece of wood.
"So how did you end up with a wolf as a pet?" he asked, sitting in the chair nearest the fire so that he could toss the wood shavings into the hearth.
He didn't know why he talked to her. Normally, he wouldn't have bothered, and yet he found himself strangely curious about her life.
Astrid reached down to pet the wolf at her feet. "I'm not really sure. Much like you, I found him lying hurt and I brought him in and nursed him back to health. He's been with me ever since."
"I'm surprised he let you tame him."
She smiled at that. "I am, too. It wasn't easy to get him to trust me."
Zarek thought about that for a minute. " 'You must be very patient. First you will sit down at a little distance from me—like that—in the grass.' "
Astrid's mouth opened in shock as Zarek continued quoting one of her favorite passages. She couldn't have been more stunned had he thrown something at her. "You know
The Little Prince?"
"I've read it a time or two."
More than that for him to be able to quote it so unerringly. Astrid leaned up again to touch Sasha so that she could look at Zarek.
He sat catty-corner from her while he whittled. The firelight played in his midnight eyes. The black sweater hugged his body, and though black whiskers covered his face, she was again struck by how handsome he was.
There was something almost relaxed about him as he worked. A poetic grace that warred with the hard cynical twist of his mouth. The deadly aura that enveloped him tighter than his black jeans.
"I love that book," she said quietly. "It's always been one of my favorites."
He didn't speak. He just sat there with his piece of wood held carefully in his hand as his long, tapered
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